Have you ever taken a step back and looked at Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson’s acting career? What a crap sandwich pu-pu platter of movies; “Gridiron Gang.” “The Scorpion King.” “The Tooth Fairy.” “Race to Witch Mountain.” you get the drift.

I mean, this guy is THE ROCK! The creator and sole proprietor of the People’s Elbow. The man who encourages you to shove it up your roodie-poo candy ass. He obviously wanted to be the next Stallone or Schwarzenegger; but with all the corny kids movie’s he’s done, he may as well join the Wiggles. So why would the People’s Champ keep signing up for these abominations?

Money. The same thing that keeps us going back to Brickhouse.

What can you say about Brickhouse? It’s always overcrowded. The music is about 50% higher than it ever should be. You’re ALWAYS in somebody’s way. Cigarette smoke whips through the corridors like a wind tunnel. They serve shots in those little plastic lids that you use to drink your Robitussin. But who the hell are we to pass up $5 Miller Lite pitchers and 25 cent wings on Wednesdays? Much like The Rock, we’ll all take a bit of crap if the money’s right. And on Brickhouse Wednesdays, the money is right.

This past Wednesday marked the latest chapter in our storied relationship with Brickhouse. I hadn’t been since October, and I was ready to step back in the ring. I got to the bar before anybody else, so I grabbed the biggest table available…a table for four.

Now, Brickhouse features a bizarre barrier between the bar and the tables, meaning that on either side of the barrier [EDIT: This barrier is required by law for bars], you have approximately 2 feet of room to walk. There are only so many seats at the bar, and no table can accommodate more than 4 people, so what you get is a ton of spillover into the aforementioned 2-foot walkway. You can’t possibly not be in the way. The wait staff hates you, and you can tell. If you want to go to the bathroom, you have to ask a dozen or so people to move, which means screaming in their ear due to “Tik Tok” blaring at an unnecessary volume from the speakers above.

The wings are nice and flavorful, with a bunch of different sauce options (not that I ever get anything other than Buffalo), and you find yourself ordering round after round of pitchers because they’re so beautifully affordable. But once you’ve reached your fill, you just want to go. Nothing more to see here. On this night, we stayed a while.

After I lost my voice an hour into our stay at Brickhouse, I just stopped talking to people. I literally ignored my friends and watched some lopsided college hoops game. Having a conversation takes too much effort in Brickhouse. You know when you tell a joke, and someone says “what?” so you repeat it, they say “what?” again, and you say nevermind, because now the joke has been overanticipated and is destined to fail? That’s Brickhouse.